The words hung heavy in the air. “They’re dead.” Prince Meron repeated them under his breath, his young voice trembling. His light orange eyes flickered toward Gulam, who stood still as a statue. The knight’s jaw tightened, his cracked expression betraying his internal turmoil. His dark brown eyes shimmered with a mix of grief and steely resolve. He bit his lip hard, drawing blood, and with a sharp motion, unsheathed his sword.

“Stay close to me,” Gulam commanded, his voice a low growl. “We must keep moving forward.”

But before they could take a single step, a deep, guttural growl reverberated through the dungeon. The sound echoed off the jagged walls, growing louder with each passing moment, a harbinger of terror closing in.

Gulam turned, his posture tense and ready for battle. “Run,” he barked. “My Prince, take the Princesses and hide. Find somewhere safe!”

“What about you?” Meron asked, gripping his faintly glowing sword tightly.

“I said go!” Gulam snapped, shoving the magical lamp into Meron’s hands. Without waiting for a reply, he charged into the suffocating darkness, his boots pounding against the cold stone floor.

Meron hesitated, his gaze lingering on Gulam’s retreating figure. Then he turned to the two Princesses, their wide eyes reflecting the lamp’s faint glow. “We have to move. Now!” he urged.

“What about Gulam?” Agatha asked, her yellow eyes brimming with fear.

“We don’t have time! Just go!” Meron shouted. His voice was sharp, but the tremor in it betrayed his fear. Taking the lead, he guided the Princesses back toward the path’s entrance, the dim lamp their only guide through the oppressive dark.

........

Deep within the dungeon

Gulam sprinted forward, his breath steady despite the burning in his chest. A grim smile touched his lips. May the deities watch over you, my Prince, he thought as he pressed onward.

The dungeon’s oppressive atmosphere deepened, the air growing colder and heavier. The flickering bioluminescent vines cast shifting shadows across the slick walls, their eerie green light mingling with the faint orange glow emanating from Gulam’s sword.

Stolen novel; please report.

Abruptly, Gulam stopped. His instincts screamed at him, and his body obeyed without hesitation. His keen senses detected something—movement just beyond the edges of the lamplight. His breathing slowed as he shut his eyes, letting the silence envelop him. The faintest tremor in the air confirmed it.

He was not alone.

“Flame Technique—Burst,” he muttered.

A fiery aura erupted around him, casting brilliant light into the suffocating gloom. The dungeon trembled under the surge of mana, the oppressive shadows momentarily driven back. The fire’s brilliance revealed five figures standing motionless in the distance.

They were humanoid, clad in tattered garments reminiscent of an ancient warrior clan, but their forms were grotesquely distorted. Their heads were smooth and faceless save for a maw of writhing, tentacle-like appendages. Their bodies flickered between visibility and transparency, as though they existed in two planes at once.

Their faceless maws twisted open, emitting guttural growls that shook the cavern.

Gulam smiled grimly, his flame filled eyes glowing faintly like embers. “So, you’re what’s been waiting for us.”

In an instant, the five figures blurred, moving with inhuman speed. Before Gulam could react, they were upon him. He attempted to dodge, but it was too late. Their clawed hands stabbed into his chest, digging deep.

Gulam gasped, his face pale as the life seemed to drain from him. But instead of blood, flames poured from his wounds, the fiery essence seeping into the creatures.

The creatures screeched, their translucent forms twisting as the flames poisoned them from within. Yet their victory was short-lived.

Gulam’s body dissolved into smoke.

The real Gulam appeared behind them, his movements fluid and deliberate. “Flame Technique—Ignite.”

A gust of flame ignited through the cavern, feeding the flames that erupted around the figures. The inferno roared, engulfing them in searing heat.

But the creatures did not fall. Their charred forms staggered, their bloodlust undiminished. They lunged again, their attacks wild but perfectly synchronized.

Gulam ducked and weaved, narrowly avoiding their strikes. “They move in sync… but unfocused,” he muttered under his breath, his mind racing. “I can’t use that technique yet… not while the poison lingers.”

The knight leapt into the air, positioning himself above the creatures. His right hand stretched forward, flames swirling around it, while his left gripped his sword tightly.

“Flame Technique—Fallen Sun!”

A blinding explosion of fire erupted from his outstretched hand, the flames cascading downward like a miniature sun. The cavern trembled under the force of the blast, the oppressive darkness momentarily obliterated.

When the flames subsided, three of the ancient warriors lay obliterated, their bodies reduced to ash. The remaining two stood, their forms battered but still moving.

Gulam landed gracefully, his feet sliding against the scorched stone. Flames swirled around him like living serpents, coiling and snapping at the air. He grinned, his confidence unwavering.

“Come on,” he taunted, his voice steady and cold. “Don’t keep me waiting. Let’s dance.”

The swirling flames flared brighter, casting their chaotic light against the dungeon walls as the two surviving warriors lunged toward him once more.